"I'm getting there, I'm afraid," he said, thinking of the stacks of books that occupied the of his bedroom. He'd run out shelf space too long ago, and hadn't really felt comfortable expanding into another bedroom. "Someday it'll be cozy enough to b a fire hazard, but ... not quite yet." He trailed off a bit because she looked uncertain about something, and he didn't want to talk over her at all, and she was getting a little closer, which was absolutely to be encouraged - but he was being a little stupid, really. He pushed his hands into his pockets and followed her, thinking it might be best to get out of such close quarters, as it was obviously pushing his mind into places it didn't belong.
"Pumpkin juice would be fantastic," he said, smiling as confidently as he could. Wine might have been more the thing, but maybe not, and if she decided not to have any, then what? Had this always been this complicated? "It feels right for Hogsmeade ... something else I haven't had much of since I was at school." He felt like he should offer her something, but he couldn't, could he.